War Dog: Origin
by BlackLister0322
Summary: "You're a war dog, Alfie," Reggie says. "You're a cold-blooded lethal war dog, is what you are.". Gotham 1x17... Alfred Pennyworth centric. WIP.


**War Dog**

**Disclaimer… I own nothing of Fox/DC Comics Gotham, nor any affiliates. I am using my own creativity and merely borrowing their characters- I gain nothing from this other than the sheer joy of filling in blanks of the series in my own fan obsessed mind.**

BOOM. BOOM. Shouts, more BOOMS.

"Alfie! Alfie?... Hey, mate, hang on for us... We have to hurry." Said a very familiar voice through the haze of pain and confusion he was feeling, "I found him! He's Here! MEDIC!"

The jostling and movements of being dragged, his mind went back to being dragged down a hall, his hands tied behind his back. He groaned, he made his body a dead weight as he felt numerous hands grab him, poke and prod. A sharp sting in his arm, someone was talking to him again, that strangely odd familiar voice.

"Alfie… listen to me, we found you. We are bringing you home, mate. You're going home. " He opened his eyes briefly, he tried to focus them and realized it was Reginald Payne, Reggie.

_Reggie, good man that Reggie. _He wanted to talk, but hands firmly laid him back down on the stretcher, he reached a hand out to his friend, brother in arms. He was cold, he was so cold he looked down at himself. He was bruised, bleeding and broken, his body was covered in blood, dirt and sweat, maybe even tears from his own eyes.

"Sir, are you Alfred Pennyworth? Alfred Thaddeus Crane Pennyworth?" said what he could only label a medic. He tried to talk, his voice was nearly gone. All the screaming he had done, all of the yelling, cursing and screaming from pain.

"Sir… Yes… I'm… A-a-lfred Pennyworth." He coughed violently, it hurt so much. He closed his eyes, he felt more poking and prodding, he felt them roll him over to one side, as whatever contents in his stomach were rejected from his body. Nothing but bile, how it hurt his chest and abdomen to cough and dry retch, everything hurt.

"Notify, Command we have him, we are bringing him in and he is critical!" Barked a medic to the pilots on the helicopter, "Pennyworth, you have a lot of injuries and we are going to get you stable and to a hospital. Do you understand?"

Reggie pushed past the medics for a moment, he reached Alfred's free hand and held on to it. He gave the limp, cool, pale hand a reassuring squeeze. _Reggie… Reggie, what happened to me? How long was I gone mate?_ His eyes rolled back and closed.

"Oi! Alfie! Alfie… Mate, don't you do this! Not after all we did to rescue you. C'mon!" Reggie practically screamed at the unconscious man. He shook him; the medics intervened, pulling him away.

"Let us work on him sir. He's been through a lot." Said one medic at he injected more medications into the I.V. Port on Alfred's arm.

Alfred had been stripped down to just a pair of tattered pants, he had wires all over his chest, an I.V. bag, and the medics were administering oxygen via a face mask. Numerous bandages were covering his body, medics were speaking more in terms of 'stabilize', 'blood loss', 'burns' and 'contusions'.

The flight back to a military hospital took forever, or so it seemed. They were rushed into the hospital. Reginald 'Reggie' Payne and his squad stayed in a waiting room as they waited for word on their mate. Reggie was pacing, he'd get coffee, or another squad mate would get coffee, or food. No one in this unit was married, they were a special operations team. Hours would pass before a doctor came out to give them an update.

"Doctor? How is he?" Reggie stood straight up, with the rest of the squad behind him, the doctor wrung his hands.

"As you all know, Mr. Pennyworth has been through quite an ordeal during his captivity. He has a severe concussion, cracked orbital, broken nose, several facial lacerations, dislocated shoulder, two broken fingers, dislocated wrist, lacerations from restraints on his wrists, several broken ribs, that were in various stages of healing, re-broken. A collapsed lung that was very recent, his left knee was dislocated. He has some burns on his upper body that look like electric burns. In short gentlemen… he is very lucky to be alive."

A visible sigh from the squad, a few of them patted Reggie on the back.

"Can we see him? Can he talk?" Reggie asked urgently "You know, the mates and I are all a bit nervous, it'll go away if we see him, instead of the image of him in the helicopter."

"Normally, I would say no. He's very weak, but seeing that you all need the reassurance… go ahead. Try not to make him nervous or stressed. Room 3499 in Critical Care Unit." The doctor nodded in the direction.

Reggie and about nine other men in military uniforms walked down the halls to the room they were told Alfred would be in. They entered quietly, Alfred laid in a hospital bed, in a hospital gown, wires, tubes and such all over the place. The steady beep of his EKG as he laid there, he was so pale. His face and body was marred with various bruises and lacerations that were freshly stitched. He stirred, his swollen eyes opened a little bit, he coughed, wincing in pain.

"Alfie, we're here, pulling for you mate. We've got you mate, all of us are pulling for you." Reggie said in a reassuring tone.

The others were nearby, their heads were bowed, one at a time they each uttered words of encouragement to their fallen mate. He'd not, if he didn't drift off to sleep from the pain medications, each of them left after. Reggie stayed behind.

"R-reggie?" Alfred opened his eyes, they were glazed from the pain and the medications he was on.

"Yes, Alfie?" He leaned closer to hear, so his injured mate wouldn't use a lot of energy speaking louder.

"I didn't break… I didn't let them b-break me." Alfred said in a voice that shook, with tears sliding down his face.

"I know, you done good, done real good, Alfie." He said as he held Alfred's hand and gave a reassuring squeeze.

"They… t-they beat me, b-burnt me… I held out, I swear. I didn't tell them… a-anything." Alfred was saying it in such away almost as if he had to convince himself he didn't break.

Reggie knew better, Alfred may not have given information out but he was very much so broken. Reggie had seen it in other men from different units. _You don't survive three months as a war prisoner and not break from the physical and mental abuse they do, no one ever has. Not even Alfie. _Reggie looked at Alfred.

"Alfie, we don't have to talk about that right now, just focus on getting well." He said this trying to hide his own emotion. This was his brother in arms, his mate, and now he couldn't do anything to help him out. He stayed in the chair near the bed that Alfred laid in.

Alfred drifted in and out of sleep, occasionally he was visited by a nurse to check on his vitals, his pain, and the medications being given to him. On other occasions, the nightmares and horrors of his mind had him struggling in bed, his heart rate monitor was sound off in a series of furious beeps as the nightmare, or flashback went into full swing. Doctors and nurses would rush in, a sedative was given as Reggie watched feeling helpless as his friend struggled in the nightmare, only to be reduced to whimpering as the sedative kicked in. Day light came…

"Reggie… So s-s-orry." Alfred's voice was hoarse and barely more than a whisper.

"No worries, Alfie." Reggie said with a sly confident smile "It'll take more than that to scare me off from you."

A nurse brought in some breakfast, it was plain oatmeal, something soft to get him to eat again and weak tea for him along with some broth. Alfred looked at it with suspicion, he pushed the tray away.

"No. D-don't want it…. N-not hungry."

Reggie looked at the tray, than at the nurse and back to Alfred.

"Alfie, you have to eat… c'mon. It'll help you feel better." Reggie said with an optimistic tone.

"They'd say that… they'd offer me food… w-w-with maggots and rotting meat in it. I'm not hungry!" Alfred said, with that he pushed the tray on to the floor it would have been more forceful if he was stronger.

"Ma'am, could you bring some toast for him? Perhaps he'll eat something plain and a little more solid if you can bring that please?" Reggie asked with a charming smile.

The nurse nodded and cleaned up the mess. She left the room, Reggie looked at Alfred.

"You know they won't let you back until you've eaten and healed up… physically and mentally, Alfie." Concern was evident in Reggie's voice.

"I'm f-fine. I'm deal-ling with it on my own… be right as rain in a few weeks." Alfie said with a weak grin.

"We both know, that is nowhere near true. You were captive for three months! Three months, Alfie!" Reggie practically yelled at Alfred.

"You don't think I know t-that Reggie? You don't think… that… I'm fine. Things will s-sort themselves out. I'll be back in shape soon enough." Alfred said, he pulled the blankets back, ripped wires and the I.V. off of him.

He reached for the pair of crutches nearby, just as he reached, he lost his balance, falling to the ground with a horrible thump. Pain shot through him, he curled up tight as his mind brought him back to his captivity. He expected a shod foot to strike him in the stomach, or the ribs, or even his back. He curled up tightly; he felt hands reaching around him.

"Help me get him back to bed, I told him he needed to rest. He got it in his thick skull to attempt to prove he was strong." Reggie muttered to the nurse.

Alfred felt his body being lifted, and hands tugging on him, another sharp stick, more EKG pads being placed on him. He felt the foggy haze overcome him as more drugs were introduced to his system. He'd have it out with Reggie once he finished fighting this fog. _Damned pain medicine…. _Alfred thought as he drifted off into oblivion.

Chapter 2

It had been a few weeks, it was dull and repetitious. Every morning, he'd go through exercises to rehabilitate his body, speak to a trauma specialist about his ordeal. He'd tell the therapist exactly what they wanted to hear in hopes he'd be let out soon. It was nearly two months and his commanding officer sat with him. It was a blur words like 'trauma', 'stress', 'more harm than good' , Alfred seemed to zone out as the really important phrase was uttered 'honorable discharge'. It all came down to the fact that it had been weeks, but they felt that he was not the same nor would he ever be the same. With that, he limped out of the offices. He limped down the halls lost in a bit of a haze.

"Oi! Alfie!" shouted a familiar voice.

Alfred turned around, a grim smile on his face as he tried to pass off everything that was said a few minutes ago.

" 'Ello Reggie, how goes it?" he was good at faking, he'd faked everything for the therapist. He could fool anyone, he'd keep this going until he couldn't anymore.

"The boys and I hear you're going home soon, what say we go to the pub have a few drinks? Eh?" Reggie had something of an impish grin.

"Not tonight… I kind of just want to ease back into living again. On my own…. Sort out my flat." Alfred said quietly, giving Reggie no hint that his military career was over_. What does one do when they are pushed out? How does one go back to being a civilian… CIVILian. Civil. After all the things he had done? Killed people, with his own hands, he was captive for months. Tortured. Beaten. He felt he had been abandoned, now twice by his own country. Anger burned in his chest. _

"Well, alright, perhaps later this week?" Reggie smiled and turned away, walking back down the halls.

"Right then. I'll talk to you later…" Alfred said quietly. He made his way back to his room. He began to pack his things, careful of the movements that caused pain. He got his discharge papers from both the hospital and the military.

It was over; he was no longer SAS, or part of the military. He felt broken, betrayed, hurt, his body ached as he made his way to a wheel chair that was managed by an orderly who took him to the front of the hospital as a military escort vehicle waited for him. The young soldier took his belongings and packed them into the car. The ride to his flat was uneventful, not a word spoken, just silence. His mind played the last few months over and over in a loop.

"Sir, we're here at your flat. I'll help bring your stuff up, if you wish." The younger soldier said quietly, not wanting to startle him to much.

"Yes. Thank you, that would be very appreciated."

He limped, slowly with a cane to the steps, than made his way up a few steps, taking a moment to breathe, he finished going up the steps to his door, unlocked it and stepped in. His bags and possessions were placed inside his flat by the soldier that brought him home. The soldier nodded, uttered some words and left, shutting the door behind him. Alfred slowly made his way to the liquor and grabbed a tumbler, he poured the amber liquid in and drank it, and drank another one. He poured the third glass, and made his way over to the couch, he sat there and slowly mixed the drink around. It had started to rain, he drank it quickly and just sat back. Evening settling down, he looked about his flat as he tried to figure out what to do now with his life.

Chapter 3

He stumbled a bit, knocking over a few bottles of empty, sad memories in his apartment. It had now been a few weeks, maybe months, he wasn't so sure. Most of his days he spent at a local pub, getting into a brawl here and there, he'd come home and keep drinking. _How do I go from a skilled soldier, special operations to nothing? To a civilian life? I'm not meant for this. I should be with my squad. Reggie, Mills, and the others. How can I possibly be worth anything to anyone? _

He stumbled about his apartment, reaching for another bottle of liquid forgetfulness; he had done so many terrible things. Things that made him forget he was human. He was a monster, with a gun, skills that you don't just put on one's job application because they aren't everyday skills that you'd use in an office. He chuckled, raised the bottle to a photo he had of him and his mates. He took a few more swigs and eventually found himself passing out on the floor near a dying fire place. Hours may have passed, the phone rang, he jumped, looking about for the phone and answered it.

" 'Allo, um… Speaking…. Yes…. No I didn't know that... I'm sorry, where are you calling from?... Mr. Thomas Wayne? My father works for you?...Yes, Jarvis Alfred Crane Pennyworth… No sir, I was in the military, I wasn't allowed to contact family often…. Thank you, Mr. Wayne…. I'll contact you soon enough." The phone called ended, in anger, despair or shock he hurled a bottle across the room, it was obliterated as it burst into pieces.

He grabbed a coat, and stumbling out the door away he went. He wanted something to make sense, nothing made sense. First his transition to civilian life, after a brutal captivity experience and nearly dying, now he spent his days in and out of bars, fighting whatever brute would have at it with him, and now, his father passed away. His father, apparently was the last of a dying breed of man servants and butlers. He was in the United States, in a city, Gotham City, attending to a Mr. and Mrs. Thomas Wayne of Wayne Enterprises. He was buried there, because the family had no idea that Mr. Jarvis Pennyworth had family, much to their dismay Alfred was mentioned in a will, as was his contact information.

"'Ey, one more over 'ere love!" He shouted with a few bills in his hands for more drinks.

"Dearie, I think that's enough for you… Look at you, a bloody mess." The lady replied.

"Naw. I'm right as rain…" His words slurred.

He reached over grabbing the bottle of whiskey, a meaty hand to a muscle head ape of a man grabbed his arm.

"The lady said, you're done, now off with you, or I'll have you shown out." The muscle head said in a warning tone.

"Oi, hands off boy-o, you don't want to bother with me. " Alfred said just as low in a slurred warning.

He grabbed the bottle, without warning slammed it on the muscle man's head, he backed up with a growl and then charged Alfred, knocking him to the ground flat on his back. Alfred landed, the wind knocked out of him, not completely healed from some of his injuries, he raised his arms up to protect himself from the barrage of punches that were being rained down upon him. This gave him some time to figure something, his arms grabbed the hips of the muscle man, and he attempted to use his own hips and body to throw the muscle ape off of him. It worked, he was able to recover just enough to stand and be greeted by two more muscle heads, which grabbed him by his arms, rammed him to the wall. The bar was now truly alive as patrons and such jeered and cheered.

"Aye! Now you're a bloody dead man… " Said the main muscle head, he spat as he stormed towards a now very restrained Alfred who still had fight in him, " Let 'im go boys, he thinks he's some sort of tough guy."

They let Alfred go, and both rammed their fists into Alfred's abdomen, dropping him to his knees, the wind left him. Than the main muscle head, delivered an elbow to his head, dropping him to the floor. The three muscle heads than dragged him out back and threw him unceremoniously to the ground.

"That'll teach him." One of the others said, the ruffled through his pockets, grabbed his money and through the wallet at him.

Alfred laid there, it was raining hard, it's England when doesn't it rain or look like it will. He slowly got himself to stand, unsteadily and leaned on a brick wall.

"Oi! Alfie! Hey!" A figure ran towards him, he looked up at none other than Reggie Payne.

"Reggie, I was just about to head back to my flat." He said weakly, and very slurred.

"Bloody hell, you're looking like hell. What the hell happened?" Reggie said as he offered to help Alfred, Alfred took the offer without question or comments.

"Ah, you know me… always having a go with someone over something stupid… Reggie, I was good at what I did. What am I going to do now? " His tone went from weak and positive to broken.

Reggie sighed, he honestly didn't know what Alfred would do. He didn't know how Alfred would do in an office setting, one noise may set the man off into a fight or flight mode.

"Let's not worry about that mate, let's get you home and taken care of. Oi, You been drinking Alfie?" He said as he hauled Alfred back down the streets to his flat.

"A little… Just a little to make the pain stop, try and forget what I was." His words were terribly slurred.

They entered Alfred's flat, Reggie flipped a light switch and looked at the bottles all around. Clear bottles of rum, whiskey and scotch littered the floor, as did some pill bottles. There were papers all over the couch, marked with names and numbers.

"Oh, Alfie, what have you done here?" He said it with pity and sadness.

Chapter 4

Reggie stayed, he cleaned up the flat, he helped get Alfred to bed and stayed around for a bit. That was when he heard a quiet plea for help, than it gained more volume and sounded more desperate. He strode over to the door that led to Alfred's room, and listened. The poor man was haunted, there were pleas of help, there were apologies, than screaming. It was a horrible sound, screaming, Reggie opened the door, to find Alfred, screaming and writhing in bed as if fighting off some unknown attacker.

"Alfie!" in a harsh whisper, "It's me, it's me… Reggie." He clambered over to the bed and firmly hugged his former squad mate. Alfred shook as he started to wake up, hot tears falling from his face.

"Reggie… I was a monster. Everything I did, I was a monster… I k-k-killed people. I deserved what they did to me." Alfred said in a weak whisper.

"No, you didn't do anything wrong, we had a job and we did that job. We did that job as a team. War dogs. That's what we were, Mate." Reggie said it in such away as if he had to convince himself as well.

"No… No, no one can or will ever forgive us for what we have done. We have done many terrible things… and I can't just stroll into an office job with the things I've done." Alfred stated almost on the verge of breaking again.

Reggie just calmed him down, he rubbed his back and spoke quietly to Alfred, at some point Alfred was back to sleep. Reggie laid him down and put the blankets back onto him. He backed away and went back out, he continued his straightening up, that's when he saw writing;

Mr. and Mrs. Thomas Wayne, Gotham City, United States… Jarvis Pennyworth, dead… and an American phone number.

Reggie looked at it all and took out his cell phone and dialed the number. He got a lot of information posing as Alfred's brother. He even pulled off acting upset over Jarvis' death. He then said that Alfred, expressed an interest in helping the Wayne house hold, so with that he finished up talking with Mr. Thomas Wayne, explaining Alfred's current situation, though not in a lot of detail. Alfred Pennyworth now had a job, as a butler to the Wayne Family of Wayne Manor in Gotham City.

It was for once, in a long while sunny, Reggie allowed himself back into Alfred's room, opening the blinds and with a cheery voice.

"C'mon, get up. Time to wake up, shower and you'll feel fresh as a daisy." Alfred, rolled to his other side.

"Go 'way!" Alfred said into his pillow. _Where did Reggie get this energy from at this hour?_

"C'mon, you're leaving town. We need you up and out. I've packed some clothes for you, your flight leaves at two o'clock, you'll land around four o'clock eastern standard time in Gotham International Airport." At this Reggie pulled the sheets harshly, dumping an already bruised Alfred on to the floor with a thud and a curse.

"What do you mean, 'Gotham'?" He said with some anger "Reggie, what did you do?"

"I've taken it upon myself to send you somewhere for a fresh start. Lovely family, your father served them, and you'll do the same as it was wished for you by your father. Oh, and they have a child on the way." Reggie beamed, quite happy with his plot.

"Reggie, I'm not going… I'm not cut out for that work." He protested.

"Alfie, this is perfect for you-" Reggie started to say but Alfred stopped him.

"No, what are they going to do when something drops to the floor and I dive for cover? Or I bloody lose it when the child screams?" He was now just grasping at straws for excuses.

"Alfie, it'll be okay… I told them I'm your brother and you were honorably discharged after some bad runs in the military. C'mon, you'll be fine, they seemed quite understanding." He said with a grin.

The ride to the airport was uneventful, and silent. Reggie could tell Alfred was not sure nor entirely happy with being shipped off half a world away from the familiar to a place he only heard of every so often from his father. They waited together, made small talk here and there.

"Tell them, you fell off a ladder- so you don't frighten them with all the bruises on you right now." Reggie said, with a laugh.

"Remember the go we had, it was supposed to be a simple run and look, and I wound up chased up a tree, by a baboon? You and the mates were yelling 'Alfie, don't make eye contact! Avoid his eyes!' Meanwhile, this mad baboon was set on killing me." They both laughed at that, the laughter died.

"You know, you did good, you did what needed to be done Alfie." Reggie said quietly.

"Yeah, well… My flights boarding, tell the blokes at headquarters I'll see them soon." He and Reggie hugged and Alfred made his way to his flight.

Chapter 5

"Young Master Bruce, you cannot keep dumping your strained peas and carrots on the ground like this…" Alfred said as he got on his hands and knees at glared at the toddler, "Ah! No, not the Cheerios to, hopeless, utterly hopeless. "

This amused the toddler, he was now two years of age. Alfred had been with the Waynes for two years, he served them their dinners, drove them to events and yes, watched their first born son Bruce Wayne, Master Bruce. It wasn't the easiest job, not by a long shot, jobs he did in the SAS were much easier, and he'd take that job over any other. Yet, he remembers the small bit of protectiveness he felt when the Waynes let him hold their baby boy for the first time. Mr. Wayne was in fact Dr. Wayne, who had made many contributions to the welfare of the city of Gotham and it's people.

**"It's okay, Alfred, just watch his head, hold him close…" Dr. Wayne said quietly as he helped the butler learn how to hold Baby Bruce. **

**Alfred felt awkward, unsure of what his role would be now. He smiled as he tried to relax holding the newest Wayne family member. He'd remember numerous times cursing the car seat out that would be used to hold Master Bruce on various car rides to various places and family functions at times. **

"Master Wayne, perhaps we might consider a maid that will help with Master Bruce, I've no children of my own and I don't think I would be a suitable guardian for him. Have you no other family? Forgive me for asking Sir, I just… I don't think I'd be your best option."

Dr. Wayne turned to him, he smiled and placed a hand on Alfred's arm.

"I feel confident you are my best and only option Alfred," He smiled at Alfred, "Mrs. Wayne wants those boxes of books in the library, so we can make more room for Bruce's stuff as he gets older. She'd like for him to have his own area in the Manor."

"Yes, sir." Alfred said as he began to move boxes and books about. Every now and then he had to take a moment.

His old injuries got aggravated, and he would tend to go back to those days. Days he never told anyone about or talked about anymore, a door slammed and he looked startled and got back to work. By the time he had finished doing what was asked of him, it was about seven o'clock, he had enough time to finish cleaning, get Master Bruce into the bath and off to bed. He finished with Master Bruce, and had the toddler to bed about eight thirty. He put the baby monitor on and went back to his room. It had started to rain, a bad storm was in the forecast this evening, he sat in an arm chair and face the windows that looked out over the Wayne Manor property.

When the Waynes had come back from and evening out, Alfred shut his door, locked it and went to the cabinet to have a tumbler or two of his scotch. It took the edge off of hearing the thunder, he was back there:

**He was in black fatigues, staring down a rifle scope and talking to his spotter. Gunshots rang out from his rifle, they picked up quickly and ran down the hill they were on, they buried the rifle and met up with the other squad members. Jones and Cassidy were killed on the spot from enemy fire. Reggie got picked off with a shot to his arm, Alfred kept running with others, he lost sight of them and then the ground beneath him gave way, and he landed 15 feet below where he had been. He tried to stand but his left leg screamed in pain. He reached down and felt his leg, from what he felt and attempted to see as he cut away the pant leg, he had a dislocated knee. This was not good, the mission went to shit real quick now, he was now injured, his mates were dead. He didn't think Reggie was alive, and now he heard people speaking, not in English. They hauled him roughly up using rope, bound his hands behind him and made him walk, limp painfully back to where he didn't know. **

** When they arrived to their base, enemy territory, one of them kicked him behind his knees. He fell painfully to his knees, a yelp escaped his parched lips. They spoke in some dialect of Russian, or something he wasn't sure. One of them stepped forward grabbed his head and in broken English:**

**"Why were you here? Why kill our men?" He was so close to Alfred's face, Alfred could see the pores of his skin.**

** Alfred remained silent. Two others, one had his hair up in a tie of sorts, and another had a think beard said stuff in their language. They must have been talking about Alfred's dead squad mates. They walked over, grabbed him roughly, the one that initially approached him hauled back his fist, and slammed it into Alfred's stomach, once, twice, three or four times, the two that held him dropped him and left him on the ground. He gagged, as he tried to bring air into his lungs. One of them pulled out cigarettes, lit them for the others and himself. **

**They laughed as they watched Alfred attempt to stand, that was when one barked an order, ran at Alfred and kicked him in the side. He dropped to the ground again, gagging and wheezing as his body tried to regain his breath. **

_This is no good, no good at all. _**He took inventory of the recent injuries; **_left knee dislocated, bruised abdomen, broken ribs- maybe three? No worries, they'll find me. I know they won't leave me behind. They can't, someone's bound to see we didn't check in at the check time. Someone will figure it out and I'll be back at headquarters in time for the Manchester United game. _

Alfred awoke from the nightmare; he was in a cold sweat. He struggled to stand, find the light in his room only to turn it on and see his face; pale, sweaty, nervous. He checked the time, it was four in the morning, he remembered where he was, which helped him get set for the day. He didn't sleep as well as he used to, he'd be awake now for the rest of the day. He showered, shaved, dressed, made sure his suit and all was pressed and shined. He checked himself in the mirror and made his way to the kitchen to start tidying up and getting breakfast ready for the Waynes.

Chapter 6

Much of the days were the same. It was repetition, it was ceremony and etiquette, it was boring. How did servants, butlers, maids and all become accustom to this life style? Alfred often wondered how his father did it. Master Bruce was growing; he no longer through his strained mushy foods on the grounds, or cried when Alfred held him. Now when Alfred picked him up, he'd play with Alfred's tie, or collar, or find something with which to amuse himself. He found that Alfred's nose hair, the single nose hair that would be a problem every now and then was very much attached to Alfred and his nose. Much to Alfred's surprise he tolerated the little bit of pain Master Bruce inflicted, noting he's just a child and knows no better.

Today was park day, a day that Alfred would be asked by Mrs. Wayne if he'd mind accompanying her while she shopped with Bruce. That would last a few hours, and then he would opt to take Bruce to the park down the street from the stores. He'd watch closely, careful not to hover over the young boy but far enough that he'd see if anything happened to him. Then, it happened, young Master Bruce was running about the playground apparatus, when he tripped and fell, he landed and began to scream and cry. Mrs. Wayne was on her way over, Alfred, took off sprinted the 20 yards to Master Bruce;

"Master Bruce, it's alright. Just some scrapes and cuts," he said as he picked the young boy up, as he turned around, he was met by Mrs. Wayne "Ah, Mrs. Wayne just some minor scrapes and cuts."

"Thank you, Alfred. He's taken a liking to you. Bruce, sweetie, it's okay," She said "Do you want me to take him, Alfred?"

"No, I've got him Mrs. Wayne." He smiled at her and at Bruce.

They were in the car, Bruce laid his head in his mother's lap, her hand stroked his dark locks. The ride was uneventful. They arrived forty five minutes later at the Manor. Alfred took young Master Bruce, and some of the bags in with him, he had told Mrs. Wayne he'd get the rest in a moment. Soon Bruce was inside, on a sofa as his father cleaned the scrapes and put band aids on. The bags were out of the car and put away as to Mrs. Wayne's wishes, and Alfred parked the car for the night in the garage. When he came back he heard Dr. Wayne talking to Bruce about how important it was to pick ourselves up after we fall. Alfred smiled at that, before he entered.

"Master Wayne, Master Bruce, Is there anything you need before I finish for the night?" Alfred said in his usual curt manner.

"No Alfred, that'll be all. Thank you." Dr. Wayne always said thank you, and all other niceties.

Alfred nodded and turned away, he began to walk up towards the stairs, and head to his room. Just as he managed to get to the stairs, he heard the pitter patter of feet.

"Mr. Alfred! Thank you!" Master Bruce said as he hugged Alfred about the legs. Alfred, patted the boy's shoulders, with that the boy looked up at him and smiled, Alfred, cracked a small smile at him "Good night, Mr. Alfred."

"It's Alfred, Master Bruce. Good night Master Bruce." He said and then he made his way to his room.

It was moments when he got into his room he'd allow the mask of servitude to fall off. It was his ritual, have a tumbler or two of scotch, sit in his arm chair and whatever came to mind, came to mind.

**He was trying to keep track of how long it had been, they would not let him see if it was day or night. He'd try and figure it from when he was last out in day light or evening and count down that way. He lost track, he was shackled by his arms from the ceiling of some old farm building. His arms were numb, then they'd hurt, then they'd go numb again, the slightest movement made them so painful. They'd take turns beating on him, or burning him with cigarettes, one bastard used the old car battery and wires trick. That hurt beyond anything he'd ever felt in all his training. **

**They stripped him and dressed him in old clothing, that was a bit too big for him, or had he lost weight? They hadn't fed him regularly, sometimes they'd throw some scraps to him, but a dog would grab it before he did. It was hours, maybe days before they'd let him down, when they did he'd cry out, and that would earn him a beating as well. He didn't even understand why they were doing this to him, they made no demands. But in all the briefings it was typical of this group to do this to their prisoners. **

**"Reggie, Reggie… don'tleaveme… please… helpmegethelp…" He was delirious with pain and possibly infection. **

** A young lady, that had been at the camp sat beside him, she took a cool damp cloth and put it on his head, she tended to some of the wounds and burns that were infected. She placed some medicine of herbs, he couldn't figure it out, on his wounds. She lifted his head up, and offered him some fresh, clean, cool water. It put the fire out in his throat, he drank it fast, she urged him to slow down or so he'd guess. More time passed;**

**"I don't know what you want… I don't even speak whatever you speak…" He yelled hoarsely in a moment of clarity. **

**He felt so incredibly dizzy, weak, and tired- exhausted. They held him up, he was on his knees, than one of them drove a knee into his back, he fell to the ground, and they stomped on him. They'd pick him up, strike him in the face, abdomen, where ever. Finally oblivion took over, darkness swallowed him, how long they continued he didn't know. **

**_"You were an animal out there, Alfie…"_**

**_"Alfie, you took them all out… in such a clever way."_**

**_"So very lethal, Alfie… I'd hate to be on the other side."_**

** Time was meaningless…**

Chapter 7

Little Bruce, was now seven years old and ever the more energetic, curious. He sat on the counter and watched Alfred work on a meal for the family. He'd ask why Alfred added this or that spice, or why he let it cook in the oven for however long. He was ever the inquisitive child, Alfred would let him lick a spoon or have a small taste of the meal beforehand.

One day, Master Bruce got the courage to ask if Alfred would let him cook cookies- bake cookies, Alfred gently said, he then state he had no objections. So Alfred was to assist, Bruce, sprinkled ingredients all over the counters, the floor, and the sink. Broken egg shells, brown sugar, chocolate chips all over. Mrs. Wayne walked into the kitchen to see the commotion.

"Mother! Alfred let me bake cookies today! They're almost done. Do you want to try them?" Young Bruce said with enthusiasm.

Mrs. Wayne nodded. Alfred had his small smile again. This job had done a lot for him, he thought. He actually felt human and mildly- okay, very protective of young Master Wayne, he tried to not show how he felt about this job unless it was in a utmost professional way.

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Wayne, he asked and I obliged him. It's a skill he could use on his own and teach some independence. If that's okay?" He said, knowing he may have overstepped bounds.

"Alfred, I think that is a great way to teach our Bruce some independence." Mrs. Wayne nodded, and smiled.

"Alfred, would you like a cookie?" Bruce offered a saucer with two cookies, and some tea that he made as Alfred and his mother talked.

Alfred, shyly accepted, not used to anyone offering or doing anything for him. He felt a bit embarrassed. Mrs. Wayne smiled at Alfred.

"Your father, Jarvis was good to the Wayne Family for years, Alfred, and you are being good to us now. Don't feel you can never come to us for a favor, understood, Alfred?" She said quietly.

With that, Mrs. Wayne nodded, and reached over to Bruce, she brushed his hair out of his face and he smiled, she bent down kissed his forehead.

"Let's get you to bed, Bruce. School in the morning, and a busy few days ahead." She said.

They wished Alfred a good night, he attended to the kitchen. He cleaned up the dinner dishes, the cooking ingredients, put things away, and checked that the oven, stove and all were off. He walked towards the light switches, turned off the lights and warily made his way back to his bedroom. Tonight, he didn't bother with the scotch, tonight he sat in his arm chair lost in thought, he watched the snow drift down. The forecast was for six to twelve inches, it was windy as well. He seemed to zone out, that's when the past comes back to him;

** Where were they? He was in a different building, different town. But the same guards were with them, they had no qualm beating him for kicks. He was in a concrete room, a steel door, a towel on the floor for a bed or blanket he guessed. He hadn't heard his name in a long time; his days and time were all about pain, injuries, infections, more pain. Explosions, a series of explosions, bursts of gun fire and shouts. **

**"Alfie! Alfie?... Hey, mate, hang on for us... We have to hurry." Said a very familiar voice through the haze of pain and confusion he was feeling, "I found him! He's Here! MEDIC!"**

** The jostling and movements of being dragged, his mind went back to being dragged down a hall, his hands tied behind his back. He groaned, he made his body a dead weight as he felt numerous hands grab him, poke and prod. A sharp sting in his arm, someone was talking to him again, that strangely odd familiar voice.**

**"Alfie… listen to me, we found you. We are bringing you home, mate. You're going home. " He opened his eyes briefly, he tried to focus them and realized it was Reginald Payne, Reggie. **

**_Reggie, good man that Reggie. _****He wanted to talk, but hands firmly laid him back down on the stretcher, he reached a hand out to his friend, brother in arms. He was cold, he was so cold he looked down at himself. He was bruised, bleeding and broken, his body was covered in blood, dirt and sweat, maybe even tears from his own eyes. **

**"Sir, are you Alfred Pennyworth? Alfred Thaddeus Crane Pennyworth?" said what he could only label a medic. He tried to talk, his voice was nearly gone. All the screaming he had done, all of the yelling, cursing and screaming from pain. **

**"Sir… Yes… I'm… A-a-lfred Pennyworth." He coughed violently, it hurt so much. He closed his eyes, he felt more poking and prodding, he felt them roll him over to one side, as whatever contents in his stomach were rejected from his body. Nothing but bile, how it hurt his chest and abdomen to cough and dry retch, everything hurt.**

He was startled from the dream, flashback or nightmare. He didn't know how to explain them anymore to anyone; he actually never spoke of them to anyone. Maybe Reggie told the Waynes, that he had a rough go in the military, maybe they hired him out of pity? Mrs. Wayne always seemed sincere when she spoke, especially tonight. He moved to his bed, and laid there unable to sleep a wink at all, he tossed and turned, got up and just paced about his room.

_ How do you explain to people, educated people the things you did? How you had no issue killing an innocent if it saved so many more? You were a machine, a dog told to go do a job or a trick and you did it. You never questioned it. Should I even tell them? I should be honest with them. Honesty. No more lies, their son doesn't need to know any of it until he's old enough to understand. _

Chapter 8

"Master Wayne, might I have a word with you? In private?" Alfred asked quietly with the utmost humility.

"Sure, Alfred," Dr. Wayne said as he shut the doors to his study and offered Alfred a seat.

Alfred sat in an arm chair, as Dr. Wayne poured two glasses of bourbon. He passed one to Alfred and sat across from him. Dr. Thomas Wayne, owned Wayne Enterprises, but worked as a doctor at Gotham General. He was a lean man, with sharp features, and dark hair that he often combed neatly back. He dressed neatly and up to date, like something off a magazine for men but more expensive. Tonight he wore slacks and a sweater, casual, casual for him.

"Dr. Wayne, I uh… Reggie, when he called you many years ago, what exactly did he say about me if I might ask?" Alfred looked down for a moment.

"Ah, well he told me that you had wanted the job and that you were honorably discharged from the military over there. He said you that you were looking for something less militaristic and that you had been injured, that they would not let you back to full duty," He said softly, he then asked "I've been a doctor, you tend to look at what people aren't telling you. I mean that's what I have learned from being a doctor."

"I don't talk to people about what I did; I've done things I'm not proud of. I worry, that those things may come back to me, and hurt people I know and care for." He said quietly, hoping Dr. Wayne wasn't going to fire him or send him away.

He listened to Alfred, he didn't judge, or tell him to shut up and get out. He was a compassionate man; he was quiet and listened to Alfred. He poured them each another bourbon.

"Alfred, we have not once felt endangered with you, we have felt that somehow Bruce was something you needed after we heard what Reggie told us. It wasn't as much as what you told us, but we felt you were the best choice for the job."

"Sir, if you feel that I'm dangerous or that I endanger your-" He spoke, Dr. Wayne held his hand up to stop him.

"You won't, we feel safe with you, and you care for us and especially Bruce. That is all we want, that you care for what is most important to us. Alfred, you are part of the family." He said, he reached into his pockets and pulled out an orange bottle with medicine in it and handed it to Alfred "I've a friend who can help you, let you talk to him about things, he gave me this for you to help you sleep. I know you've not been sleeping much in a long time Alfred. Try it."

"Thank you, Dr. Wayne." He took the bottle and headed to his room. He thought about taking some of it but with the bourbon in his system he decided against it for tonight, the last night of sleeplessness.


End file.
